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THE NIGHT COMETH.
Upon the dewy ground;
That by the way abound.
And hide the fading light;
Then cometh on the night. Our hearts are growing weary;
Our eyes are fain to close; The limbs relax in slumber
Oh, sweet will be repose. Yet, ere the evening vanish,
Oh, let us rouse again, And work awhile in earnest
It may not be in vain.
Oh, faint not in the light,